Page 11 of The Troublemaker
When did he turn into such an adult?His hair is a little thinner on top and his stomach a little more extended.He looks just like I remember our dad looking before he left.Come to think about it, Whit is probably his age.
He places his coffee on the desk and pulls a paper out of his messenger bag, handing it to me.“She’s been in the red for the past two years.Her personal money kept this place afloat.”
My gut twists as I stare at all the red on the spreadsheet.
When I look up, Whit nods, taking a bite of his bagel.He finishes chewing.“Sorry.I know this place has sentimental memories for you, but it’s never going to make money, Had.Maybe you just let it go.”
He continues to eat his bagel and sip his coffee while I examine the spreadsheet.Dread seeps in deeper the longer I read through the statements.How can someone like me, who has never owned a business, turn this around?
Money was never the reason I wanted the bookstore, but I also don’t have the disposable income to keep it afloat out of love.
Poor Pete and his kidney medicine are reliant on me being able to pay Vera.She’s not the only employee here either.
Is Whit right?
I don’t even have any husband prospects unless I put an ad in the newspaper and promise them… what?A failing bookstore he could own jointly with me?
Still…
“But Whit, it’s our family’s.”
“And it’s dying.You could sell it.Grandma owns the building, so?—”
“But Vera lives upstairs.We’d be kicking her out too.”
“I’m not saying it’s easy, but we can’t just keep pumping money into something that’s essentially a hobby.There’s a provision in the will, and Grandma set some money aside to keep this place running for a while, but after that…”
“But I thought Edmund said if I don’t want it, he’ll find a reputable buyer?For the business.”
He cocks his eyebrow at me.“We both know that the paperwork will promise that it remains a bookstore for however many years, but there’s no way you can lock someone into keeping a business that’s failing.”
“But—”
“I understand Grandma wanting it to live on, but…” He shakes his head.“It’s a sinking ship.”
My head is shaking before he finishes his sentence.“I can’t, Whit.I can’t do that to her.”I lean back and cross my legs, dropping the paper on the bookshelf, my eyes snagging onThe Secret Gardenby Frances Hodgson Burnett, as if my grandmother placed it there for me.
“Then you have to find yourself a husband.With deep pockets.”Whit crunches his parchment paper in a ball and tosses it into the trash can like a basketball.
The chair creaks again as he stands and grabs his coffee.
“Just think about it, Hadley.I know you love this place, but staying here in Chicago—is that what you really want?You’ve never been one—” He shakes his head.
I’m not surprised that he’s doubting me now.The rest of my family has probably made him defect from Team Hadley after I treated Chicago like a revolving door.I’ve given him no reason to think I can do this.That I’ll stick around.
At this point, I’m not sure I even have faith in myself.
“I gotta get to work, but give it some time.Think about it.There’s no stipulation on the timeframe?—”
“Except my year doesn’t start until I marry.”
A fun fact Edmund Mills filled me in on when my family was leaving and he asked me to stay back a second.Which means it’s more than a year now because what kind of man will marry me without knowing me?
He turns to face me when he reaches the door.“Unfortunately, yes.I think it was her way of keeping you here.”His eyes zero in on the wall behind me, the one with all the postcards, then his gaze finds me.“There’s only one sensible decision here, Had.Don’t feel guilty for making a decision that’s good for you.”
He walks out and yelps.“Oh, hey Honor.”
“Whit,” she says, sliding by him into the office doorway.
